Disclaimer: I own the characterization and the plot, not the characters.

Wildflowers and Green Grass

Five years wasn't long enough. Not nearly long enough. But my father and mother thought otherwise.

After the battle was over, and 'normal' life restored, I refused to go back to Hogwarts. I finished my studies at home. It wasn't easy, but I managed to pass my N.E.W.T.s with Os and Es in all my subjects thanks to mother, father, and my uncle. When my exams were done, I went to university in France. Not because I cared to extend my studies, but because I wanted to get away from it all – my family, England, Potter, all of it. It was … oddly comforting … to dwell in a strange land. For the first time in my life I was just another wizard in the crowd. Only a few times was I mistaken for a member of the French clan Malfoi, the remainder of the time I was treated with an air of indifference, like the French treat every foreign wizard. My father had offered to make a few floo calls, write a few letters for me. I don't have to tell you I declined his offer. I didn't want to be Lucius Malfoy's son anymore.

I went to France alone and made my way as best I could. I was not happy during those years, but I was not miserable either. I kept mostly to myself. I learned much about finance, which my father had suggested as an appropriate course of study. I also continued with transfiguration – my favorite subject – despite the fact a Gryffindor taught the class. It was only by a stroke of luck I was able to continue with it at all. Professor McGonagall wrote to the Master Level instructor in support of my petition to apprentice with him. I don't know why she did it. I never even asked for her help. A copy of her letter merely appeared by owl at my bedroom window one day. She had heard I was applying, and sent the recommendation off straight away. I think her letter was the reason I was accepted. I've thought a million times about finding some special way to thank her. I haven't come up with one yet.

I went away. Then I came back. It was the most difficult thing I'd ever had to do – more difficult than my attempts to kill Dumbledore, more difficult than suffering Voldemort's wrath. I came back to a world where Malfoy was a name still spoken of with contempt. All I had to do was walk down Diagon Alley and I could feel angry eyes upon me. There was a time I wanted nothing less than to be the talk of the town. I didn't want that kind of attention anymore. All I wanted was a face, one kind face to smile at me in greeting and say, 'It's nice to see you, Draco.' And mean it.

My mother received the invitation. She was a close friend of Dorothy Greengrass from the time they were girls and both named Black – distant cousins on their paternal line. Dorothy sent my mother an invitation to her daughter's wedding, having half-won the argument with her husband over whether or not to invite the Malfoys. My mother was invited, my father wasn't, and I had only just arrived from France. Unbeknownst to me, my mother procured a second invitation to the party, for me, as her escort. I was furious and spent days coming up with all manner of excuses why I could not, should not and would not attend.

'I was never friends with Daphne Greengrass.'

'Oliver Wood is a pompous prick.'

'I don't have anything clean to wear.'

'No one will want to talk to me.'

At this point, father interrupted me. It was strange how after all this time, after all I've seen and learned of him, all my father has to do is speak my name to silence me.

"Draco," he said. "The longer you wait to show your face, the more difficult it'll be. It's time, time for a new beginning for the Malfoy family. I can not be the one to lead us. My name will never be clean again. It must be you who carries our family into the future."

He laid a hand on my shoulder then.

"You survived the Dark Lord," he reminded me. "You can do this."

I did it. I went to the wedding of Daphne Greengrass and Oliver Wood. It was an opulent affair. The Greengrasses knew how to throw a party, I'll say that much, and Wood had become something of a Quiddich celebrity. My mother was greeted warmly by her old friends. She had not been a Death Eater, after all, despite having married my father. And she saved Potter's life, yes, she did indeed. Part of me wanted to shout at the crowd – 'I saved Potter's life months before my mother did!' But I wasn't about to press my luck. He made an appearance – Potter, that is – with the Weasley girl. She was prettier than I remembered, and they looked so happy together. I tried not to let their happiness bother me and can't say I entirely succeeded. I stayed hidden at the back of the crowd so they wouldn't catch sight of me. They were gone within an hour.

I spent most of the time after the ceremony wandering the grounds of Green Grass Manor. There were people I knew at the wedding, former Death Eaters, acquaintances from school. They were polite when I crossed their paths and said hello, but they always had someone to look for and walked off, leaving me alone. It was tiring, keeping my anger and upset contained. After awhile I didn't bother trying. I found myself on the second floor, out on a small balcony. It overlooked the garden and a host of revelers who laughed and talked below. My mother was seated off to the right, chatting merrily with friends. She looked happy, happier than I'd seen her in some time. Maybe she was even able to forget, for a few blessed hours, how low our family had fallen. I didn't want to disturb her or end the dream too soon. I stared out over the field, my thoughts wandering amidst the wildflowers and the green grass.

"It's a good hiding spot – with a great view of the grounds."

I turned at the sound of her voice. One of the bridesmaids stood at the door. Wildflowers were woven into her hair and she was dressed in lavender lace. I thought the dresses silly when I first saw them, to be honest, but the color and cut suited this particular bridesmaid well.

"How do you know?" I asked, thinking of nothing else to say in reply.

She laughed. "It's my house."

I studied her face more closely then, trying to remember the name that went with it. It had been a long time since my mother brought me to 'play' with the Greengrass girls. Mister Greengrass didn't approve of my father's associates, and had always done his best to keep his distance. He tolerated my mother because of his wife, but my father and I were never truly welcome in his house. I couldn't recall the younger sister's name and it didn't help that she had not been sorted into Slytherin.

"I'm sorry," I said. "It's been a long time. I don't recall…"

"Astoria," she replied, interrupting me. "Astoria Greengrass."

"You weren't in Slytherin," I said, and then felt stupid for stating the obvious.

"Ravenclaw," she replied. "Who'd want to spend five years at Hogwarts in their sister's shadow?" She took a few steps forward to join me, and then cast her gaze on the people below. "It's lonely up here," she said. "Why don't you come back down and join the party?"

I shook my head. "It's lonelier down there," I replied.

She looked at me curiously. I could see a question coming. "Is that why you went away?" she asked.

I shrugged. It was not an easy question to answer. There were many reasons why I went away. I settled for the first thing that came to mind. "It was a nice change, not being Draco Malfoy."

She laughed. It was a soft, gentle sound, without pity or contempt. "You can't change who you are," she said, "not even with Polyjuice Potion. You'll always be Draco Malfoy."

She said this as if it were a simple truth that should not trouble me at all. Her levity angered me. "Draco Malfoy, the Death Eater," I said, "the pariah."

She lifted a delicate hand and pointed to the people below. "There are other Death Eaters down there," she said. "They had to walk softly these past few years, earn back their former respect. It wasn't easy for them either, I'm sure. "

Her mention of my former friends upset me even more. "They're the ones who avoid me like the plague," I growled.

"Of course they do." She looked at me then with an expression of mingled amusement and exasperation. "They don't want to lose ground with the rest of the wizarding community."

I fell silent. The logic of her words and my former comrades' actions was undeniable, but still it grated. When I looked over at Astoria again, her expression had changed. Her eyes were darker than they had been before and her mouth was drawn into a frown.

"What's wrong?" I asked, wondering if I was the cause of her turn in mood.

She sighed then, but continued to gaze upon the crowd. "Sometimes I think things will never change."

I shook my head, not understanding. "What do you mean?"

She looked up at me for a long time before she answered. She was taking the measure of me, I'm sure, wondering if she should share her private musings with a Malfoy. She made her decision, and jerked her chin towards the crowd. "Look down there. What do you see?"

I wasn't entirely sure what she meant. "Wizards?" I answered, and saw by her expression that I was on the right track.

"What kind of wizards?" she asked again.

My gaze passed over the many familiar faces, witches and wizards I knew, had met in passing, or 'knew of' if by reputation only. "Old families," I replied, "purebloods mostly, and others who have built themselves up."

"Precisely," she said, her voice sharp. "The same old faces, the same old prejudices. You know, there were a lot of muggleborns in Ravenclaw, and all of them were brilliant. More so than the purebloods even, because they never held back, they weren't raised with the same prejudices, weren't … inbred."

She shook her head, a fierce kind of determination lighting her eyes. "This war may be over, Draco, but the real battle is still to be fought, right down there with our families, our friends and neighbors."

She lifted her gaze and returned her attention to me. I can only imagine what the look on my face told her, I had never heard a pureblood from a family as old and respectable as Greengrass speak of such things.

"You want to call me a blood traitor, don't you?" she said.

It was hard to know how to respond, though I'm sure the answer was written clearly enough across my face. "I …," I began, and then stopped to organize my thoughts in a more polite manner. "It's difficult to see a different point of view, when you've been raised to think a certain way. Blood purity … it … it's about preserving our history, our wholeness, untainted by corruptions that weaken a wizard's strength."

She was not convinced by my argument. "Voldemort was a half-blood," she said, "and the boy who defeated him was, too. Too much purity leads to stagnation, Draco, to mental and magical decay – to squibs."

And there it was – the ever-loving hole in the theory of blood purity. "I know," I said, and I did. There were nuts in my family tree, and more than a few squibs stricken from the records. But the Potters were purebloods as far back as any could remember, and the Dark Lord was a Gaunt, or so the historians said. There were Potters and Gaunts sprinkled all along my family tree, and it was easy for me to attribute their greatness to the pure blood that flowed in their veins.

My thoughts were interrupted by Astoria. "They used to exchange muggleborn babies for squibs, you know. My grandmother told me. Her sister wasn't really her sister. She was a muggleborn they took to replace a squib. There's muggle in all of us purebloods, I'd wager – even you."

I must have appeared insulted, because she laughed at me, or more rightly, at the face I made. Then she sighed and headed back to the door.

"Well, I think that's enough dark and depressing talk for one wedding day," she said, her spirits rising. She turned then, and held out her hand to me. "Why don't we get ourselves a drink and head down to the dance floor? I remember you as a pretty good dancer."

"You do?" I asked, not able to recall a single time I had danced in her presence.

"Come on," she said. "I won't leave you to the wolves."

"Is that a promise?" I asked, nervous now at the thought of facing the crowd again.

She didn't promise, only grinned mischievously at me. Then she took my arm, and led me inside.

The party was well under way, the ballroom crowded. She escorted me into the hall. She introduced me to her family and friends. She never left my side, not once the entire night. Hours later we danced the final dance of the evening. I held her in my arms for what might have been the twentieth time. She was tired by then, and so was I. She rested her head on my chest, and I rested my chin on her. We swayed slowly to the beat of the drums. It felt like we danced forever. Forever wasn't long enough. When the song was done, blue eyes looked up at me, and she smiled.

I never realized until that night that a smile could mean so much.

A/N: I was feeling sappy and political. This is the result.

WendWriter was inspired to write a short fic called 'Changeling' based on my mention of swapping babies. Check it out if you're interested.